


Reddie vignettes

by iamleavingthisfandom



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Smut, the fics are individually rated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:13:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamleavingthisfandom/pseuds/iamleavingthisfandom
Summary: A collection of fics or vignettes that I can't be fucked to post as separate works here. First posted on tumblr,iamleavingthisfandom
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 24
Kudos: 107





	1. Valentine's Day - rated T

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter is a separate fic, and each will have a small description with the rating and any warnings relevant. I don't know what else to tell you, it's all pretty self-explanatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a small fic for Valentine’s Day. Rated T/PG-13, just 40yo reddie tenderness. Fluff, food, and feelings

Technically, they agreed to a no-gifts rule. Well, not a rule, more of a guideline, really. They agreed that Valentine’s Day was a dumb holiday, what with its consumerism, commercialization of showing affection, heteronormative standards, the idea that they needed to show their love for each other on specific calendar days when they did that all the time anyway – and all that jazz.

That didn’t stop Richie from getting stuck in front of a patisserie window playing chicken with a box of strawberry macarons he knew Eddie would _love_. After standing in the street for a while he started getting weird looks from the passersby, so he decided, _screw it_ , and walked into the front door. Immediately, he was hit with a powerful smell of pastry and sugary sweets that made his head spin.

Next thing he knew, he was home with a large bag from the patisserie. He got, perhaps, a bit too much. Maybe buying two Danishes (one strawberry and one apricot), half a dozen cupcakes (hummingbird, strawberry, and lemon raspberry meringue, _the last of which he chose purely on a whim because of how many words there were in the name and because he couldn’t connect them all together in his mind)_ in addition to the box of macarons that initially captured his attention was enough. Maybe it was more than enough. But he couldn’t help himself and bought a couple of éclairs, a box of assorted pastries, and some chocolate-covered strawberries as well.

So when he came home, he decided to display everything he got. Eddie was well-known for his sweet tooth, and _if_ he had any initial half-hearted objections to the sweets, seeing the variety was bound to make him leave his concerns about a ‘healthy diet’ at the door and let himself indulge for one night.

By the time he heard the door to their apartment open, Richie had managed to set the table in the nicest way he could, a rose amidst the sweets and all. Eddie walked through the door, calling out to him, and started telling him something before he came into the kitchen and froze in his tracks.

“Rich,” he said slowly, eyeing the pastries laid out on the table. There was no mistaking the excited glint in his eyes, though. “What the fuck are we supposed to do with all this?”

“Eat?” Richie suggested, raising his eyebrow. Eddie groaned and dropped the bag he had been holding on the counter. Somehow Richie hadn’t noticed it before, but upon further inspection, the bag was sporting the logo of one of his favorite restaurants.

“I got takeout from that place downtown you like so much,” despite his annoyed tone, he was grinning, and Richie walked to him and leaned down for a sweet kiss. He pulled Eddie close and felt arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“You did that for me?” Richie smiled when they broke the kiss. Eddie’s expression was softer now, and he was smiling, too. 

“Yeah, well, you did that,” he gestured towards the table, “for me. But that’s beside the point. What _the fuck_ are we supposed to do with all this food?”

“We’re supposed to watch anything your heart desires while gorging ourselves until we can’t move, obviously.” God, Richie’s expression must have been stupidly happy, but he didn’t care one bit, not with how gently Eddie was looking at him.

“Obviously.” Eddie’s soft tone combined with that small happy smile of his left Richie breathless even on his best days. And now, as he was standing in the middle of the apartment he shared with the love of his life, both of them smiling at each other because neither could resist getting a lovely surprise for the other, despite agreeing not to? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow won the lottery of life, without ever deserving it.

And he wanted to show it, too. Always did. So he stroked Eddie’s cheek with his thumb, smiling at him softly. 

“You make me feel like I’m the luckiest bastard alive, Eds.” Eddie raised his eyebrow in response, his smile morphing into an ever-so-slightly self-satisfied smirk. 

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one here.” His hand slipped to the back of Richie’s neck and he was tugged down into another kiss. He would definitely argue that he was objectively luckier, but his lips were otherwise occupied for the time being, and maybe that was just fine.

Once they broke the kiss, all Richie could do was stare down at Eddie in wonder. 

“How are you even real?” Eddie just laughed lightly and patted Richie’s cheek.

“Come on, the food will get cold,” with that, he left a peck on his lips and walked off to unpack the bag with the best Kung Pao Chicken in LA (in Richie’s personal opinion), leaving Richie standing there with the dumbest grin on his face. 

They spent the rest of the evening on the couch, Eddie’s legs swung over Richie’s lap, getting crumbs all over living room furniture while ‘Doctor Who’ played on the TV. And if they spent more time talking to each other and trying to get cupcake frosting on the other’s face instead of watching the show, that was just them. 

At the end of the night, Eddie didn’t even complain about how much leftovers they had (testament to the wonders sugary sweets could do to one’s character). 

“I’m so full,” Eddie groaned as he stretched where he was sat on the couch. Richie took the opportunity to run his fingers over his toned calf lightly, admiring Eddie’s _gorgeous_ legs. He was met with a smile when he looked up and couldn’t hide his own.

“Me, too.”

“Wanna make out?” Eddie raised his eyebrow, chuckling as Richie nodded a bit too fast and too eagerly. He stretched his arms out and Richie scrambled to knock him over with a fit of laughter from both of them and press their lips together through the small laughs. Eddie made a sound to get Richie’s attention again and tapped his shoulder, making him pull away. “If you lie down on top of me, I’ll be sick, scooch off.”

“The things I do for love,” Richie sighed melodramatically, making Eddie snicker, but still rolled off of him and let Eddie settle on his side and kiss him. It was slow and sweet, and nothing like what he always imagined Valentine’s Day would be when he was growing up.

It took them at least half an hour to separate. But when they did, Eddie cozied up into Richie’s side, Richie’s arm around him.

“When did we become old and boring?” he sighed, his head on Richie’s chest and his fingers stroking patterns into Richie’s expanded stomach. 

“Around the time we decided that killing a demonic clown was more than our fair share of excitement.” Richie pressed a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head. “But hey, if you’re concerned about that, I’ll totally rock your world in bed. Just give me a couple hours.” 

Eddie laughed and turned his head to meet Richie’s eyes. 

“Nah, I like being old and boring with you,” he patted Richie’s stomach gently. Richie could see love in his eyes, probably looking back at him with a lovesick look. 

“Yeah, me too,” he smiled and gave him another kiss before they both passed out on the couch. Maybe Valentine’s Day was overrated, but as long as they spent it together, it didn’t really matter.


	2. "Valentine's Eve" - rated M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another Valentine’s Day fic about 40yo reddie? yes. yes, it is. This one is rated M, probably. No actual smut, but it’s all leading there, so yeah, going to say it’s M

When Eddie got off work on February 13, it was later than he would have liked. Oh, he loved his job, for sure; owning his limousine company was great, and it definitely came in handy when he was his darling boyfriend’s date to red carpet events. And in and of itself, it was something he was _good_ at: he had a way of dealing with anything involving direction and spatial stuff and he was proud of that. So, really, he loved it. It was rewarding and it paid well.

But every job had days that were just… worse than other ones. There was nothing big to ruin his day, no; there were a thousand small things that went just wrong enough to leave him all sorts of ticked off by the end of the day, that was all. He got coffee on one of his better ties, a client was extra rude and entitled, the scheduling app crashed at an important moment, even if it started working again within five minutes. Valentine’s Day saw a perhaps not-so-surprising surge in rentals for couples trying to have a romantic evening together, and the amount of energy it took to get everything in order did not help Eddie’s state at the end of the day.  
  
So when he walked through the door of the apartment he shared with Richie, he was more than ready to take off his work clothes and unwind. Anything that involved him, Richie, and a couple glasses of wine would work, really.  
  
He walked into the bedroom to change and froze, letting his tired brain comprehend what he was seeing. Richie was in their bed, propped up on his side, with one leg bent in the knee in true Casanova fashion. He was naked, save for his glasses and a red heart-shaped pillow Eddie wasn’t even aware they _had_ that hid his dignity. His grin was _blinding_ as he lowered his tone to something sultry.  
  
“Well, hello there, _lov-_ er,” he drew out.  
  
Eddie blinked a couple of times and doubled over in a fit of laughter. Richie joined him, laughing almost as loudly.  
  
“Where—” he wheezed out, between laughs, “Where’s the rose between the teeth?”  
  
“Thought that was pushing it,” Richie grinned at him as Eddie walked to the bed, still laughing but lighter now, and leaned down to give him a kiss. He kissed him back momentarily and then let Eddie pull away.  
  
“What’s the occasion?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask. Judging by Richie’s carefully contained grin (no one other than Eddie would notice, really, but the glint in his eyes that went along with his definitely rehearsed shrug gave him away), he had been waiting for this question.  
  
“It’s Valentine’s Eve.”  
  
It took Eddie a moment to process that thought. He had even paused loosening his tie to stare at Richie, dumbfounded.  
  
“That’s not a real thing.”  
  
“Yes, it is,” Richie insisted. Eddie took a beat before bursting out laughing _again_ , unable to stop himself, especially when he saw Richie break character to smile at him.  
  
“It doesn’t even make any sense,” he barely got himself to calm down to giggles, almost out of breath from laughing so much. His stomach started hurting, but at least the tension he had been feeling for most of the day was nowhere to be found.  
  
“So how was your day at work?” Richie’s expression was replaced with a loving smile as he played with the end of Eddie’s tie.  
  
“Annoying, but you made it better,” he smiled back, threading his fingers through the black curls.  
  
“Want me to make it even better?” Richie grinned at him like a cat who got the cream.  
  
“Please do,” Eddie only got that much out before Richie was tugging him down into a dirty kiss by his tie. It didn’t take much for Richie to first pull him onto the bed and then to roll them over so that he was on top of Eddie, and soon, he was kissing his way down Eddie’s jaw.  
  
“Relax, Eds,” he breathed into his skin, making Eddie close his eyes to take it all in as he scraped his nails against Richie’s scalp. “Gonna make you feel good.”  
  
“Promises, promises,” Eddie chuckled.  
  
“So you don’t want my patented magical mouth on you?” he knew Richie wasn’t serious and there was no chance in hell he was actually going to leave Eddie like this, but he barely had any presence of mind for a game of teasing between them.  
  
“Please just blow me,” he grinned as Richie sucked a hickey at the base of his neck, where it would easily be hidden by shirt collars.  
  
“It would be my pleasure, Spaghetti,” he groaned at the nickname, but still kept his grin as he felt Richie’s hands on his belt. 


	3. Soulmate AU - rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe it's just me, but I haven't seen a lot of 40yo reddie soulmate AUs out there, and now I want to write them because of the tenderness potential. This one is written based on "You get a craving for whatever your soulmate is eating at the time" prompt.  
> Rated T

He walks into the living room only to find Richie sitting on the couch eating fries.   
  
At 2:15 in the morning.

The smell fills his nostrils as he breathes deeply, taking in the aroma of grease and salt that spells out “heart attack by 50” in his mind. He can _feel_ plaque forming in his arteries. And yet somehow it doesn’t matter in the slightest, because these specific fries are suddenly the most tempting thing in the world (except for, perhaps, kissing Richie senseless, but he won’t admit that to save his life).   
  
So with a sigh, he comes up to the couch, seeing Richie look up.   
  
“Move your ass,” he demands in a sleepy voice and sits down next to Richie (perhaps a bit too close), nudging his hip with his own and crowding against his side as he takes a fry out of the bag unceremoniously.   
  
“Eduardo, I’m shocked,” Richie puts a hand to his chest dramatically, and Eddie’s too tired to tell him to knock it off. “What about cholesterol and the risk of developing heart disease before the age of 55?” He knows Richie’s mocking his almost-daily lectures and he couldn't care less. To his credit, the lectures have gotten progressively rarer as he let go of more and more of his imagined ailments.   
  
“With all the heart attacks you give me daily, I won’t live that long,” Eddie grumbles with a grin, too tired to make much sense. He elbows Richie in the side a bit (intentionally) as he reaches for another fry. Richie just chuckles and lets him.   
  
So what if he’s craving fries at the same time as Richie? Fries have always been his weakness. That doesn’t mean anything. The fact that they spend the rest of the night talking because neither can bring themselves to stop the conversation doesn't mean anything either.   
  
***   
  
Next time, it’s not quite as innocent. He’s about a block from the apartment they share with Richie (as a result of an utterly platonic offer from Richie whose reasoning was that they both needed someone near after the demonic clown affair) when he’s hit with the strongest craving for orange chicken. There’s nothing around him that smells remotely like orange or chicken, and the closest thing to food he can find is a huge billboard displaying waffles with syrup and whipped cream.   
  
He can’t quite get orange chicken off his mind the entire walk back to their place, but it doesn’t immediately click that the craving might have something to do with his soulmate. Having spent years _without_ thinking about his soulmate or how unhealthy their eating habits are (which was a concern briefly before he got together with Myra and decided to ignore everything related to souls and mates – _what kind of a person eats gummy bears and gummy bears exclusively like three days in a row for lunch_ ) doesn’t really lend itself to immediate reworking, so excuse him. He has repressed these thoughts in favor of a loveless marriage for too long a time to easily jump to the conclusion that his cravings are related to his soulmate’s eating habits.   
  
As soon as he’s home, he’s about to pull up Postmates on his phone when it hits him: the strongest smell of spicy remotely orange-like substance smothered all over poultry. Just to confirm his suspicions, he takes off his shoes and makes his way to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway.   
  
As he thought, Richie is sitting cross-legged at the table, his hair up in a messy bun as he scrolls through twitter, no doubt tracking news articles about his recent coming out (he says it doesn’t bother him, but Eddie knows it does). And what does he have if not a takeout box full of orange chicken? There’s another plastic box on the table and Eddie’s heart _stupidly_ skips a beat when Richie looks up at him and smiles brightly.   
  
“Hey, Spaghetti! Got you your usual Beef with Broccoli,” Eddie stares at him, at both containers on the table and at the small boxes of rice before smiling softly to himself. He doesn’t know what he’s smiling about, really, but when Richie asks him about his day at work, looking like he’s actually excited to listen to him, he just feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be.   
  
***   
  
From then on, he starts watching Richie for any signs of returned sentiment. It doesn’t _necessarily_ mean soulmate status by itself, sure. But Eddie can’t get the idea out of his head, and he clings to anything that gives him hope, simultaneously refusing to hope too much.   
  
And oh, are there lots of things to give him hope. Richie doesn’t steal his food _quite_ as much as Eddie does his, but he most certainly eyes whatever Eddie’s eating with interest every single time they eat together. Not that it’s all that out of the ordinary for people who live in such close quarters.   
  
What strikes him as particularly compelling is the time when Richie, who has an entire routine about kale being the Kyle of vegetables and just The Worst, steals a sip of his green kale smoothie one morning. He makes _a face_ but doesn’t say anything, and Eddie doesn’t comment, mostly because the gears in his head are turning. Did he not realize it was kale? Can it be…? Are they…?   
  
When he looks at Richie to check if he suspects anything, he seems as oblivious as he is to Eddie’s constant urge to climb him like a goddamn tree. Figures.   
  
***   
  
Mostly, all these times can be rationalized easily. They live in close proximity, so whenever one of them has a food so good the craving is basically infectious, the other can smell it. And no wonder they end up sharing it.   
  
Other times are more difficult to explain away without admitting the soulmate possibility, but Eddie manages. Kind of. They spend so much time together that in some ways they just sync. Not that he ever synced with Myra, but he and Richie have always just been like that.   
  
So yeah, they just... Sync. Like when they were talking about cryptids all night and suddenly both suggested watching _The Mothman Prophecies_. It makes perfect sense something similar would be true for food.   
  
So Eddie doesn’t pay the synchronicities much mind at all, even if there is always that voice in the back of his mind to remind him that _yes, he has very much considered the possibility of them being soulmates and guess what? He would be more than fine with that. He would be pretty fucking ecstatic is what he would be._   
  
But he doesn’t fixate on that. No, it’s fine, and he just steals half the food off of Richie's plate every time they eat together. So what? It’s all par for the course.   
  
Except one time he's lounging in the living room, not doing anything in particular and _definitely_ not reading Richie's twitter while laughing at his jokes. And that's when he feels it.   
  
An _overwhelming_ craving for some black licorice.   
  
The trouble with that is, black licorice? Is fucking disgusting. He knows that. He can’t remember if he has _ever_ craved licorice before, and if he has, it’s been a long while. So it makes no fucking sense, and he’s about to get annoyed when the door bursts open and Richie’s voice comes in, loud and chirping, and oh.   
  
Oh.   
  
He’s holding a wheel of black licorice with fresh teeth marks in it.   
  
Eddie’s off his phone and on his feet within seconds, crowding an unsuspecting Richie against the door, hands on the front of his shirt. He gets a nervous chuckle when he searches his eyes for that _something_ that would suggest Richie wants him, too. He might be pretty damn sure they’re soulmates, he might be sick of waiting, but he’s not going to be an asshole and kiss Richie if he isn’t convinced Richie wouldn’t mind.   
  
“Whatcha doing there, Eds?” Richie asks, breathless.   
  
“Testing out a theory,” is his response, and he reaches up with his hand to stroke Richie’s cheek, watching him closely. Richie can’t seem to catch his breath, his eyes wide and wandering all over Eddie’s face. They settle on Eddie’s lips, Eddie knows this, and he watches Richie’s ones in return, slightly open, but not moving.   
  
_Fuck it,_ he decides. He can’t wait any longer.   
  
With a swift movement, their lips clash. Is it as smooth as he always wanted his first kiss with his soulmate to be (if it ever happened)? Fuck no. It’s awkward and so far it isn’t anything but a press of lips. But it’s Richie and him and it’s so much better than he could ever hope for, and that’s all he has the time to think before Richie closes his lips over Eddie’s one with an almost desperate noise and wraps his arm around him.   
  
He makes a point not to deepen the kiss, because he doesn’t want to taste licorice on Richie’s tongue (except that he does. Desperately).   
  
When they break apart, which is sooner than Eddie would like, he moves his hands to the back of Richie’s neck and to his hair.   
  
“Licorice is fucking gross,” he breathes out lightly, making Richie laugh.   
  
“I’ll give up licorice for-fucking-ever if that means I can make out with you,” Richie responds, going to throw the wheel somewhere far away, but Eddie has caught onto the whole craving thing. He’s interested now. So instead, he snatches it out of Richie’s hand and takes a bite.   
  
It’s kind of gross, but that’s what led to them kissing, so he’s decidedly not going to complain. Plus, the _kind of_ seems to grow on him with each second. He can get used to this. More so to kissing Richie than to licorice, but still. He takes his time chewing it with Richie watching him closely.   
  
“I think I can be persuaded to like it,” he smirks at Richie’s dumb grin.   
  
“And what can I do to persuade you, Eds?” he asks, playful, but with that undercurrent of ‘I’d do anything for you’ that Eddie isn’t going to unpack now (it makes him feel like crying happy overwhelmed tears).   
  
“Kiss me again.”   
  
Richie doesn’t need any more prompting and brings their lips together, pulling Eddie close and smiling into the kiss. It’s awkward for a few seconds, and then Eddie is prodding at Richie’s lips with his tongue, asking for more.   
  
Then the kiss tastes like licorice, but Eddie makes an internal assessment and finds out that Richie’s tongue against his and _large_ hands on his back more than make up for it. Happy with this knowledge, he proceeds to make out with Richie for as long as he can justify, pressing him into the front door.   
  
All good things have to come to an end, though, and this does, too. They kind of do have to talk like adults, healthy communication and all that, but Eddie never really learned how. He tries anyway.   
  
“I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and well… it’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. Richie laughs in response.   
  
“Yeah, no shit.”   
  
“You knew?” Eddie is scandalized. About to call the intergalactic police or whatever the fuck Richie referenced that one time in his alien voice, roughly inspired by The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy.   
  
“Yeah, what else would have made you try cashews and find out you’re not actually allergic to them?” Richie is amused, but not _that_ amused. The reveal isn’t a punchline here. It’s not a planned joke.   
  
“Why didn’t you say something?”   
  
“Didn’t think you’d want to kiss the trashmouth. What, with me eating licorice or salt and vinegar chips or something.” Richie’s delivery might be light and his amendment might make little sense, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. Eddie can’t help but cup his cheek, softer this time. He knows it’s not about food, but he also knows how Richie is with vulnerability (clue: not great). So he tries to reassure him, in a similar off-hand veiled way.   
  
“Rich, I’d kiss you even after you’ve been smoking.”   
  
“Really?” The speed at which Richie’s eyebrows shoot up is something truly out of this world.   
  
“Yeah, but only three times in your life, so choose wisely,” he grins and lets go of Richie’s neck, grabbing his hand instead. “Come on, _soulmate_ ,” he puts a teasing tone into the word, but can’t ignore how his heart flutters in the silliest, loveliest possible way. Richie’s smile suggests he feels like a dumb teenager, too, and that makes it all the better.   
  
Well, they have the rest of their lives to deal with that, and in the meantime, Eddie just wants to discuss what to call each other (“partner” seems like the most appropriate word, but he’s imagined calling Richie his “boyfriend” ever since he found out what the word means) and make out with his soulmate on the couch. The rest of the world can wait. 


	4. Lingerie - rated E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s almost Valentine’s Day and I’ve just been writing soft and sweet stuff, so here, have some porn.  
> rated E.  
> mirror handjobs, lingerie, and sweetness between 40yo reddie

Eddie stared at himself in the mirror, running his fingers over smooth silk that ended just above his hip.

It wasn’t the first time he wore lingerie. Richie and he both dabbled with panties from time to time and it wasn’t all that new a kink for either of them. He knew he liked wearing red-colored silk and satin stuff (that being the only ones they had tried, but he liked the way they looked against his skin). He felt sexy like that.

But this _was_ the first time he ever put on stockings or a garter belt with suspenders to support them.

Needless to say, it was interesting. 

He found them in what he assumed was Richie’s present to him for Valentine’s Day. Not that he _tried_ to look for the present, but on February 14th (and suspiciously not a day earlier) Richie hid a box with his name on it in their shared closet. It wasn’t that difficult to find. And then he got too curious, so he opened it. And _then_ he got too curious again, so he put it on. 

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Eddie looked and looked in the mirror, fascinated by the stretch of silk over his tan skin. The cloth hugged him tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination, but that was a reasonably familiar sight. What was new was the red lace of the garter belt that ran across his stomach with suspenders hanging down. What was even newer was the soft fabric of stockings clinging to his legs all the way up to his thighs, accentuating every curve and muscle.

“Found your present?” he heard from the door, making him whip his head around and stare at Richie. He was leaning against the doorway, watching him. His tone wasn’t teasing as Eddie half expected it to be; it was quiet and gentle, almost breathless. Eddie smiled when he noticed that Richie couldn’t take his eyes off of where the garter belt wound around his midsection.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he didn’t sound sorry and he knew that perfectly well, but Richie didn’t seem to mind his chuckle if him biting his lip and closing in on Eddie was any indication. “Couldn’t wait.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Richie breathed out just as he reached Eddie and leaned down to kiss him, towering over him and pulling him into a kiss with a gentle but insistent hand on his chin. 

If Eddie was interested when he saw himself in the mirror, by then he was half-hard. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s back, pulling him even closer and having to bend his neck further back, but being able to cling onto the fabric of Richie’s T-shirt as their tongues slid together was definitely worth it. 

They parted with a small gasp from his own lips as he felt Richie’s hand glide over the outline of his cock. 

“Worked up already?” he could hear Richie’s grin, but he was focusing on the tingly feeling of the hand against him that he could feel through the soft satin, eyes closed to bask in it. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, licking his lips when he felt Richie pull back a bit. He opened his eyes to find his boyfriend looking at him with an intensity that almost made him shiver. 

“I want to jerk you off in front of the mirror,” Richie spoke up, biting his lip for a moment. Eddie blinked and, well.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Richie smiled in response and walked him back to the bed. He spun them around and sat down, but when Eddie went to sit on his lap facing him, he shook his head.

“No, I want you to face the mirror.”

Eddie bit his lip and turned around, settling back against Richie’s chest. He never imagined being able to watch himself in the mirror like this would be a big turn-on, but here they were.

“Look at you,” Richie had so much awe in his voice that Eddie couldn’t catch his breath. “You look so pretty in these.”

Richie’s hands stopped on Eddie’s thighs first, covering them almost entirely. He pushed them open, arranging Eddie as he would have him. That was always a big thing for Eddie, more so when Richie was rough and fast with it, but this worked, too.

Richie pushed until Eddie’s legs were hooked outside of his own, the knees between his thighs holding them in place. He couldn’t help a quiet gasp at the friction of the denim of Richie’s jeans against his skin, a stark contrast to the softness of silk. Richie paid it no mind and lightly ran his fingers over the lacy tops of the stockings, letting them delve under the lace a little. Richie’s eyes met Eddie’s in the mirror after Eddie’s harshly drawn-in breath and he gave him a smirk. 

“Do you like being all dolled-up for me?” he pressed a sweet kiss under Eddie’s ear. Eddie had to swallow before answering.

“Yeah,” it sounded rough even to his own ears, but Richie didn’t seem to mind. He trailed his hands up his legs to trace the outline of the garter belt with one and press the other over Eddie’s cloth-covered cock, rubbing it slowly. If he continued at this pace, Eddie was pretty sure he was going to die before he even got to come, but there was something sweet about taking things so slow. 

“I like it, too,” Richie said quietly, pulling the garter belt aside a little and letting it go for it to snap back into place. Eddie closed his eyes and went to lean his head back as he rolled his hips into Richie’s hand, but Richie stopped him with a whisper into his ear, “No, sweetheart, I want you to look how you pretty you look when you get off.”

Eddie looked up again, watching Richie’s hands that looked impossibly large against his own body. The one that wasn’t currently obscuring the view of his crotch, traveled up Eddie’s front, stopping to circle his nipple gently and make his breath hitch before continuing its path upwards. He watched as Richie’s thumb traced his lower lip, which finally got Eddie to look at himself. 

Not even five minutes into it, and he already looked a mess. His flush went from his cheeks all the way down his chest and he was breathing heavily, his hips rolling lightly into Richie’s hand. 

That was when Richie dipped his hands under the elastic that held up the panties, _finally_ closing his hand around Eddie’s cock. He sighed in relief, even as Richie continued talking. 

“So sweet like this for me. Did you imagine what I would do when you put them on?” he nodded. “Did you think about the last ones we ruined when we got too worked up and couldn’t wait?” 

He did. The expensive underwear ended up torn on the floor, but he also came four times that night, so he was not going to complain. 

Eddie was about to hum his agreement when Richie’s two fingers were resting against his lips. Without any hesitation, he opened his lips and moved his head to take the fingers into his mouth. His eyes met Richie’s in the mirror and he saw Richie bite his lip. And then he also felt Richie’s hard cock nudge against his ass. 

The temptation to tease him was too great, so Eddie grinned around his fingers and sucked more into his mouth. That was when Richie increased the speed to his strokes, his hand still kind of dry, and it only _just_ started to hurt in that great way that had Eddie slump back against his chest and take it as he let out a quiet surprised whine. 

“I think you should keep the set on for dinner tonight. Just imagine sitting there and eating your two-Michelin-stars sushi while you’re wearing this slutty little number under your suit. But then I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. Maybe I should blow you in the bathroom, where anyone can walk in and hear the lovely sounds you can never keep back?” 

Even Richie’s fingers in his mouth couldn’t get him to cut back his noises. Or maybe they made it worse as he watched them move in and out of his lips at an unhurried pace in the mirror, leaving a mess of spit down his chin. They barely got into it and he already looked wrecked, his cock and Richie’s hand visible in a clear outline under silky cloth and a small wet line across his stomach where the tip peeked out from the panties. 

And the idea of Richie on his knees, sucking him off where they would almost without a doubt be heard, got him to move his hips roughly in and out of Richie’s grip as he got louder, all soft grunts around fingers on his tongue. 

“Or would it be better if I teased you all night but wouldn’t touch you until we came home? You know you’ll be whining the whole way back like you always do, and when we’re finally here I can take my time with you. Maybe I won’t even take the panties off, just pull them aside to fuck you while you’re still wearing them. Just think how your pretty little hole will look, dribbling my cum all over this expensive silk.” 

At that point, Eddie couldn’t hold back if he tried. With a long groan, he threw his head back and bucked his hips into Richie’s hand and came, covering his stomach and chest. His head was resting on Richie’s shoulder and he was trying to catch his breath when he felt a thumb swirl through cum on his chest. Then Richie was nudging his thumb between his lips. 

Too relaxed to even think about it, Eddie parted his lips and sucked the thumb in, licking off the drop of cum on it while looking at Richie from under his eyelids. Richie was watching him intently with a small smile, and then he pulled out his thumb out of Eddie’s mouth and leaned in to kiss him. He deepened the kiss, no doubt tasting cum on his tongue, 

“Well, I believe that’s two presents you gave me,” he smiled up at Richie when he pulled away. “And I haven’t gotten a chance to give you yours.” 

“Aw, Eds, you got me a present?” Richie was horrible at playing coy, but Eddie wasn’t complaining when he was pulled into another kiss. 

“Yes, but I’m afraid it’s not quite as fun as these two were.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Oh yeah. Eddie was pretty sure Richie was going to love the ring hidden in a small velvet box in his suit jacket. He just needed them to clean up before they went to their dinner reservation and then to the quiet rooftop of the same building where he arranged everything. 

If anyone told him even a week ago he was going to pop the question while wearing panties and a garter belt under his fancy suit, he would have laughed his ass off, but sometimes things work out in a funny way.


	5. Sunkissed - rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T-rated, small, cute and fluffy honeymoon reddie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, just depressed. Anyway, please support marginalised communities and especially people of colour as you can, stay as safe as possible, and a lovely pride month to all

Richie stretches his free arm out before even opening his eyes, squinting at the spots of sunlight dancing on the inside of his eyelids. Trying to shield his eyes from the assault and preserve what calmness still lingers from his dream, he turns his head to the left, his breath instantly catching in his throat. Eddie’s sleeping, his head resting on Richie’s shoulder, arm around his waist, while Richie’s holding him close with his hand just reaching Eddie’s hip. His sleep is yet undisturbed by the sun and Richie’s lazy movements, and so, to make sure it stays that way, Richie relaxes back into the bed, choosing to admire Eddie’s peaceful expression for a while instead of getting up. 

They only arrived the day before, but already Eddie’s skin is showing signs of being in a warm and sunny climate of the Bahamas, the freckles more pronounced than usual, a hint of tan spreading on his sunkissed cheeks. He can’t help but smile at the softness in Eddie’s relaxed features. 

He starts absent-mindedly stroking Eddie’s hip with his thumb when the man mumbles something without so much as opening his eyes. Richie hums in response, unsure of whether the remark was aimed at him or a sleep-induced vision.

The smile spreading on Eddie’s lips would suggest he’s no longer in the realm of dreams. 

“Are you watching me sleep?” he opens his eyes slowly, as if it’s a chore, and looks up at Richie with warmth and a spark of amusement in his gaze. Richie can’t help his happy grin. 

“Can you blame me?” he catches the hand currently holding his waist and lifts it to kiss Eddie’s knuckles. He’s met with no resistance, just a soft smile. “It’s a wonderful sight.”

“What, me drooling onto your chest?” Eddie asks, but there’s little sincerity to the self-deprecation anymore. He still blushes a little, but he looks pleased, doesn’t tense up at the compliment. 

“No, you resting in my arms,” Richie smiles, unwilling to disturb the lazy morning with a joke. “It’s nice to see you relaxed.” He threads his fingers with Eddie’s, holding his hand gently. 

“Well, there’s going to be plenty of that these two weeks,” Eddie smiles in response and shortly presses his lips to Richie’s shoulder. “This time is just for us.” 

“Yeah.” Richie pauses to admire the view in front of him: Eddie’s sleep-messed hair falling softly onto his forehead. “So what do you want to do today, _Mr. Tozier_?” He asks, pressing yet another kiss, now to the silver band on Eddie’s finger. 

“Well,” Eddie muses, his smile only growing, “I believe we still have some time before we have to head to breakfast. That might be well-spent,” he finishes, biting his lip with a coy look. 

“And how do you propose we spend it?” Richie asks, grinning, while already rolling them over to pin Eddie’s hand to the pillows and loom over him, getting a small giggle for his efforts. He looks adoringly into his eyes, meeting nothing but love and trust. Eddie’s fingers squeeze his hand as he replies:

“Taking advantage of the privacy our bungalow provides from the rest of the hotel.”

Richie kisses him as soon as he finishes the phrase, and Eddie responds eagerly. As Richie lets his hand slip from Eddie’s hip to his thigh, squeezing lightly and pressing into a hickey there to hear a sharp intake of breath, he feels a brief thought slip through his mind, easier than he ever thought possible. 

He’s happy.

It’s not a particularly profound one, but that doesn’t present much of an issue as it fades away from articulation as soon as he trails a path of kisses down Eddie’s throat, met with satisfied humming. 

The feeling of excitement at the beginning of the rest of their lives together takes a more prevalent position, and with a smile, he makes his way down Eddie’s body to make sure their new life starts out right.


	6. object permanence - rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T, canon divergence. It's a sketch I was thinking of possibly turning into a full-blown fic, but until I can access my meds again, it's looking like I am illiterate, because I've got that brain chemistry thing that prevents me from reading or writing a full sentence, so here

It's not exactly easy to make it as two 19-year-olds who left behind everything they ever knew in their home state, but they make do.

They both work part-time, as much as they can, in addition to college. Richie has started getting gigs that pay above the minimum wage — nowhere near enough to count for much, but enough so that they could afford takeout to celebrate. 

Eddie works part-time on campus — for now, until he can figure out a deal more closely related to his pre-med major. Richie insists his working hours are few enough to allow him to actually do his homework and sleep like a human being — and when Eddie protests that _they need more savings and unexpected expenses come up all the time,_ Richie doesn’t quite argue — but he does pick up more gigs, no matter how little he likes them. 

Eddie comes to as many of those as he can and makes sure to let Richie know how loved he is. Mostly in the form of laughing a tad too much at every joke (he never fakes it, and Richie always lights up when he can make out his face in the crowd), holding his hand on the way home, and showering him with kisses when they collapse on the couch, both exhausted, but still giddy from the high-energy show earlier.

They came to this point rather… subtly.

Eddie was moving to New York, because NYU was the only place he managed to apply to without his mother knowing. Richie was set on California until he found out Eddie couldn't come with him there. He accepted his NYU offer, where he had applied just in case, within minutes after learning that. In response to Eddie's half-hearted protests that Richie had to choose his own future, he just shrugged and made off-hand comments that Cali would be too hot for him anyway, and he was always into the hustle-and-bustle of NYC.

He didn't have to say _my future is with you_ for Eddie to hear it.

Eddie just did. And he pressed his lips to Richie's in a chaste but intense kiss that left him reeling as they both blushed.

It was their first kiss, really. Until then they had been dancing around each other for years. It had been all shy glances and _almost_ s and that sickening and exciting feeling that fills your stomach with the fact that it’s not _allowed_ , you _shouldn’t_ and you have to _stop_. Yet all those _shouldn’t_ s melt into a sweet prickling sensation soft touch leaves behind on hands that _ought not_ to touch so sweetly. 

Eddie would look at Richie whenever he thought the other wasn’t looking. At how his dark curly hair, still as unruly as ever, framed his face with a more chiseled jawline now — not the ‘conventionally handsome’ of Hollywood, but something so much closer, so much more familiar. He was never the cold unreachable standard of perfection — instead, Richie was _always there_ , with his warm hands and obnoxious jokes and buck teeth — and maybe that was what Eddie fell in love with about him. 

And in turn, Richie would look at Eddie when the other laughed at his jokes in a laughter some had described as ‘shrill’ or ‘too much.’ He watched as Eddie let him get closer and closer as years went on, as he got comfortable with eating the same ice cream, then using the same water bottle, then touching for prolonged time, then sharing a milkshake, then cuddling even when Richie could feel the chub Eddie had put on because of his mother’s unhealthy eating habits — the list went on. But progressively, Eddie let him exist closer and closer, and was comfortable letting Richie in more and more. And Richie loved him for that — for letting him be in his life and make him smile and laugh, and reassure him through his not-really-asthma attacks (they hadn’t found out they were panic attacks until they got to New York and someone else witnessed Richie helping Eddie through one). 

They have trouble remembering sometimes. Between the two of them they can usually remember the Losers, especially when they get in contact somehow - it's harder to remember because they're further away, but they still manage to.

Remembering the summer of 1958 is harder, and at one point they gave up on that. Something tells them it's better left unknown.

They never forget a single thing about each other from the moment they crossed the town line, but what came before that can get blurry. Luckily, they don't often need to rehash whatever happened back then; that’s in the past. The cigarette smoke that Richie can smell on the hoodie Eddie stole from him as they cuddle on the couch on a Sunday morning, is the present.


	7. in love, deified - rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rated T, canon divergence at the end of Chapter 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya boi's a mess, but here's some more borderline poetry that came from an evening researching Greek myths and playing sims

Sometimes, he looks at Eddie and wonders how he could ever deserve him.

He wonders how it could be that after so many years and everything they’d gone through, _he_ is the one Eddie wants to be with. Richie’s sure Eddie could be with anyone, anyone at all, yet he is here, with him, sleeping soundly in the same bed, his arm around Richie’s middle and head resting on his shoulder. He knows he owes a debt to the Universe he can never repay just for keeping Eddie safe, but now that they are together… He can’t fathom how he could possibly get so lucky.

They say, there was once a sculptor, a master sculptor who fell in love with his own creation. Pygmalion, Richie thinks, was his name. Pygmalion made a statue of a woman so perfect and lifelike that he fell in love with her and begged the gods to bring her to life. Aphrodite made his wish come true and the two spent the rest of their lives together.

Richie knows his mind could never have created anyone as perfect as Eddie. From his endless kindness and bravery to the way they fight over what to have for breakfast (he gives in to Eddie’s healthy eating habits almost all the time, because the man has him wrapped around his finger). From how much Eddie supports Richie in everything, listening to the routines he writes and giving valuable feedback, to how happily he laughed when Richie took him to a theme park as a surprise. Eddie’s not Richie’s ideal partner, because he’s _better_ , so much better that it baffles Richie. He never knew love was meant to feel like this.

They say, there was once a musician, a singer, whose love died, and he travelled to the Underworld and appealed to the gods to get her back. Orpheus was his name. He sang so beautifully that he was granted a trial, after which he would get her back: they could both leave, if only he did not look at her to check if she was following him back to the surface. His longing was stronger than his trust in Hades, who promised Orpheus’s love would follow, and so just as they were reaching the surface, he looked back. She disappeared with a “farewell,” and he died soon after, following her to the Underworld instead.

Richie doesn’t dream of comparing any of his talents to Orpheus’s. He couldn’t sing or joke or talk his way through an Underworld. And he doesn’t know how it could be that Eddie didn’t die in the battle when it so looked like he was going to, but that only makes what they have all the more precious.

They say, Achilles and Patroclus were lovers. When Patroclus was killed on the battlefield, Achilles grieved and did not allow for his burial until the ghost of Patroclus asked him to let him go to the Underworld. When Achilles died, their ashes were buried in the same urn, so they were together once again.

Richie knows he isn’t good at grieving. Never have been; in life, the show must go on, after all. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to bury Eddie had things gone differently or if he’d let himself be buried under crumbling stone alongside him. But perhaps he doesn’t need to know.

They say, Antinous, emperor Hadrian’s beloved, might have sacrificed himself for the emperor, to appeal to the gods to let Hadrian recover from his illness. Hadrian deified Antinous after his death and named a star after him.

Richie supposes, risking one’s life for one’s loved ones is the same no matter the circumstances. An offering to the powers that be of one life for another, for it’s more bearable to suffer yourself than to see them suffer. He’s only grateful that it didn’t end in death in their particular case. He’d much rather name all the stars for Eddie while he’s alive to hear it and make him deified in love, not in death.

They say, there are few happy endings in myths, and fewer still in life.

And maybe it is so.

But as Richie watches Eddie slowly open his eyes and smile his softest loving smile, he knows that happy endings are overrated.

A morning kiss as a happy beginning is more than enough.


	8. California gurls - rated M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mentions of sex, but no smut today. Gross domesticity <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmmmm this was done in under an hour because stuff is difficult rn. All the love and hope to you wonderful people, stay safe and sane out there

Eddie walked into the apartment pretty loudly. Not only was he absolutely stomping his feet, he also slammed the door. Loudly. He’d had a hard day, okay. He wasn’t in the mood for anything other than opening a bottle of wine he’d bought a couple of days before and dropping onto the couch in front of the TV. Hopefully with Richie next to him, maybe even massaging his feet. Well, a guy could dream. 

He took his shoes off angrily, but still took the time to line them up next to the door. Making a mess wouldn’t help his mood anyway. 

Then he heard some sounds coming from the laundry room. Something musical that seemed like… singing? Or maybe humming, he couldn’t quite make it out from so far away. Even such a small sign of Richie’s presence calmed him a little, and he headed in the direction the sound was coming from to investigate.

Once he got to the room, the source of the noise became clearer. Richie was wearing headphones, singing along while putting the clothes from the washing machine into the dryer. Which made him lean down a lot. What a view that was. 

“Oh, California gurls, we’re unforgettable,” he sang, seemingly oblivious that he was no longer the only person in the apartment. “Daisy dukes, bikinis on top. Sun-kissed skin so hot we’ll melt your popsicle!”

Eddie smiled and decided not to interrupt the show (also because Richie’s movements and angle gave him the _perfect_ view of Richie’s ass), instead leaning his shoulder on the door frame to watch him. The cares of his shitty workday seemed to melt away at the carefree spirit with which Richie was singing. 

“Sex on the beach… we don’t mind sand in our stilettos,” Richie closed the dryer and pushed the button on the dryer, which made a quiet “beep” before the machine started whirring. “We freak in my Jeep—”

That was when he turned around to Eddie smirking at him and jumped, making Eddie laugh loudly. He grinned and took off his headphones, leaving them hanging around his neck.

“Shit, Eds, you startled me.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist enjoying the show,” he smiled and made his way to Richie, who immediately hugged him around the middle, leaning down to kiss him chastely.

“Can’t say I’m mad. How was your day?”

“It sucked, but you just made it better,” Eddie smiled, wrapping his arms around Richie’s shoulders. 

“Can I make it even better?” Richie was practically beaming.

“What did you have in mind?” At that, Richie leaned down to Eddie’s ear and took a breath of air.

“What do you say I melt your popsicle?” Eddie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as Richie left a kiss on the side of his neck. 

“Only if you promise not to call it that.”

“Fine. Can I suck your dick, Eds?”

“Too vulgar,” Eddie tried to bite back his smile. “Try again.”

“Alright.” Richie cleared his throat and straightened his back, looking at Eddie with a solemn expression. “Dear Edward, may I be permitted the pleasure and honor of going down on you?” Eddie bit his lip, but that did nothing to stop him from laughing. Despite how much he liked this verbal game, he also did want to get to a horizontal surface as soon as possible so that Richie could make good on his promise. 

“Let’s go, you big goof.” He tugged Richie towards the bedroom, but paused and looked back at him. “Can we watch the Great British Bake Off after?”

“Of course, Eds. I’ll even rub your feet while you complain,” Richie grinned, making Eddie smile. Maybe bad days weren’t so bad when he had Richie to come home to afterwards.


End file.
